Garden of Eden
by Hanz the Bunny
Summary: Aristotle once said the gods are too fond of a joke. I'm starting to agree with him. How am I supposed to work next to a man so arrogant, so selfassured and so damn sexy it's disgusting? I'm not. I can't. And I sure as hell won't.[ColbyOcPreNumb3rs]
1. Prologue and Chapter 1

_**A/N: **_**This is the first of a two-part story, derived on what we learned from the Janus List. After a few weeks of mourning I decided that I believe Colby Granger is not gulity - not innocent, but not guilty. And then I got this idea for a story. The Garden of Eden takes place **_**before**_** the actual Numb3rs series, and the second part, which I am thinking about calling The Poisoned Apple, will take place directly after the season three finale. **

**I decided to put the prologue and Chapter 1 both on this page, because I know many people don't actually read prologues, but I promise it's short. **

_**Disclaimer: **_**Sadly, I am being forced to admit that I don't own Numb3rs, yet again. sniffle But, that won't stop me from having hour long daydreams about Colby Granger - those I DO own!**

**

* * *

**

**Garden of Eden**

**Prologue**

_There are some things that can never be brought back, some things that can be resurrected, and some things that should be left alone. The past should stay in the past, the future in the future. No one cares how much you love what you lost or despise what is coming and that's the way it will stay._

_Life is life, death is death, but pain... Pain is the only thing that will make joy worthwhile. After all, how much will you truly enjoy H_ä_agen Dazs if you've never hade no-name ice cream? Yes, a simplistic example, that much is true, but I think that every now and then simplicity is the only way to live that feels right. Maybe tonight the only decision I want to make is about which movie I'll watch or which kind of shampoo I should buy. _

_For the past five years of my life the word 'simple' has remained merely that - a word, and it will likely stay that way. And to be honest, I fear that possibility. Bullets can be dodged (or removed from flesh), criminals put in jail and bombs disabled, but once you live the kind of life I do...the kind that only a hundred others truly know and understand...it becomes a foreign concept. Sometimes, I sift through the memories of my adult life and I realize that nothing has been simple for a long, long time. _

_It used to be. Oh man, back in high school when all I wanted to be was an accountant. Numbers are simple. This one goes here, multiply by that one and you get this one. But, unfortunately I'm long graduated from school. But I've got this great new job with health insurance, dental, close and usually friendly co-workers. Even though the hours suck and sometimes I'd rather sit at my desk then go and 'exercise,' it was a life I loved and it gave me a sense of duty and accomplishment. I was on a shooting star, soaring through life and beating the crap out of bad guys when they got in my way._

_And then I met Dwayne Carter._

_At that time I was 'Jenny Anderson,' the woman that would let him 'woo' her into a life she pretended to want. The woman that would have his child and patiently wait for him to return from Afghanistan, caring for Johnny, the only man she swore she would ever love - even if he was only a year old at the time. He was Jenny's son and that's all that mattered to her. He was her life source, her flesh and blood._

_No. He was my son. Jenny wasn't real, never was. _

_And this is where I smack myself - according to the government, I don't exist either. _

_These days, and every day I'm not pretending to be someone else, I go by Eden. I don't have a last name, a middle name, parents, a family, or a personal life. Well, not yet anyways. But then again, who really knows anything? _

_Dwayne sure didn't know anything, not when everything was going cold between us after he returned from war, he didn't know anything when I told him I was putting Johnny up for adoption, he didn't know anything the day I dumped him. He sure as hell didn't know anything the day that Johnny was taken from me forever._

_I think my presence just sucks knowledge and common sense out of people, because when I knocked on that door in Idaho...Colby Granger didn't know anything at all._

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 1**

There isn't an answer for a long time, so I rap on the door again, glancing casually from side to side, noting that the door in the back of the hallway on the left wall is slightly open, and the light behind the exit sign is out. This time after four seconds I hear something crash inside (it sounded like a glass lamp, maybe a water pitcher) and I back up. My hand flies to the holster at my side, under my loose button-up shirt as I step to the side of the door.

But then it opens, and a bareback man (around six feet tall, wide build, messy sandy blond hair, a five day beard that easily added five years to him, magnificent eyes with brown around the pupil, green beside it and blue rims and good _god_ an amazing upper torso) is standing there, looking slightly dazed. I relax my hand, but it remains where it is, slightly grazing the cold metal.

It's so obvious that he's assessing me, deciding whether I'm a risk to him or not so I drop my hand and smile at him, doing my best not to gawk at the man's body.

"Jenny."

His voice is gravely, and he has dark circles under his eyes, which have red around the rims.

_Nightmares_.

"You know who I am," I say it more as a surprised statement, rather than a question. Very few people actually know who I am. Dwayne took a photo of me along to Afghan, so I wasn't surprised to see that he recognized me. His eyes drop to my belly and, even though no one could tell I tried not to squirm.

"Dwayne showed me a picture."

I was still pregnant when that photo had been taken.

Okay, so someone's a bit grumpy, and I attempt to keep my amusement hidden, so I pretend to remember all the good times that were never real (considering he was a spy since he was barely an adult who just wanted to go to Afghan) and all the 'heart warming' memories that made me want to shoot someone. "Yeah...I thought he might have."

It's surprising how easy it is to be 'sad' but I might as well use it to my advantage - I needed to get him to open up to me so I could assess _him _more closely. I frowned when the idea of a physical assessment popped into my head, completely unwanted. A fake tear trailed down my cheek and I 'embarrassedly' wiped it away, choking a laugh. "Sorry, I don't usually cry in public."

Or, you know...ever.

"Oh..." he cleared his throat. "Uh, you wonna come in? It's a bit of a mess but..."

"Thanks." I give him another glimmer of a grateful smile and follow him as he leads me to the living room, which really isn't that bad. A few dishes here and there, a toppled lamp, a shirt on the floor. When I sit down on the couch I notice it's warm from body heat.

_He was sleeping on the couch, and when I knocked the second time startled him and he knocked the lamp off its kilter._ "Did I wake you, Colby?"

I slyly slip in the use of his first name, trying to send the message that I'm a friend. He yanks the shirt from the rug and pulls it over his head. Uncharacteristically, I look away.

"It's all right. I shouldn't have been sleeping anyways," he shrugs his huge shoulders and settles down on the seat across from me. "I'll never get to sleep at night now."

"Having trouble getting used to regular hours again?" I didn't make him answer and continued, "Dwayne had the same problem. He would always get up in the middle of the night...go stand over Johnny's crib and just watch him." I look down at my hands, neatly folded in my lamp, regret etched all over my pretty average features. Really, there's isn't much significant about me other than the fact that I could take down guys three times my size. My face is almost oval - it's my too defined and straight jaw that ruins it - and I have cheekbones that apparently were envied in high school. I don't understand why; they're just bones. My eyes are light blue; nothing unusual and I have shoulder length, dirty blonde hair that's too straight and too flat for my liking.

But I blend in which is a must in my business, but with some make up and a revealing dress, trust me - I stick out, also a must. Oh, the joys of being stacked. Not.

After clearing his throat again he offers to get me some water. Politely, I accept. When he's in the kitchen and I'm out of his eye site I stand up and look around. There isn't much that is personal, the couch, two chairs, one leather recliner facing a flat screen television. As I walk around I pass a small table with framed pictures of his family (I recognize them from the pictures I was shown a few weeks ago) and sigh. That's going to be an issue. Ties to the real world are never good.

_This is the exact reason I didn't want to do this. But it's not like I know how to do my job, noooo, Big Boss knows best, that's what they always say. And if Big Boss wants Granger then Big Boss gets Granger, dammit. _

I hear footsteps and I clear my facial expression of anything less than exhaustion and lament. Turning around when I feel his presence two feet away from me clear as day I sigh. "Thank you." I take the nearly full glass from him.

"If you don't mind me asking, Jenny... Did something happen to you and Dwayne? The way you're talking about him..."

I feel kind of bad for the guy. Here I am, forcing myself to keep my utter hatred for the bastard out of my voice and away from my face, pretending to actually _care_ for the damned traitor and Granger's got that look in his eyes that make me feel so safe. I actually think I could dissolve into tears and he would just scoop me up with his magnificently huge hands.

But safety is a luxury that I just don't have. I'll probably be the crazy old hag on the corner lot with fifty cats and a sniper rifle under my pillow, a machete beside my rocking chair, sitting next to my cane - that of course has a spike at the bottom, should I feel the need to stab some poor cashier at the grocery store.

I nod sadly and glance down at the floor. "We uhh...broke up. He was different after he got back, you know. Angry and closed off from me. He wouldn't talk to me anymore and he hated that I put Johnny up for adoption."

"Johnny? That's what you named him?"

This time, anything that crosses my face is as real as the air I'm breathing. The rush of pent up emotion surprises me as it slams into my heart all at once - grief, regret (the kind that keeps you up all hours of the night, "What if? What if?") gut-wrenching pain, and the bitter taste of anger. "Yeah," I swallow, hating myself more every second. I'm not supposed to have weak spots, you see. Weak spots are what kills people who do what I do. And when these people die everything they're working on usually goes up in smoke.

POOF! And it's gone.

"Johnny. After Dwayne's father."

He nods and ushers me to the couch, where I sit back down without argument. I need to get the topic back to Dwayne and away from Johnny. I need to get back in control, where I'm safe. "You know, when Dwayne got back he talked about you a lot, where you were from and your family and stuff like that."

"Yeah?"

My chin bobs up and down, hair with it. "I always wanted to meet you. I figured that maybe if I could befriend you and show him that I was still apart of his life he might, ya know..."

"Talk to you again?"

"Mm-hmm. I guess I'm a little late, huh?"

He grins at my rueful expression, and drops his bum

(_woooooow_)

onto the wooden coffee table, facing me. "Better late than never, isn't that what everyone says?"

"Yeah, but 'everyone' doesn't know shit about anything." I need to get to the point of my visit, and fast. In a few hours I am supposed to be at a private, supposedly non-existent tarmac either with Granger tagging behind me or a new spy to hunt and bring down. If I can't do either I will officially be the worst agent ever. Besides, what good is a top secret organization meant to apprehend spies in the United States if no one can even identity one?

He is fighting a full-blown smile, I can tell, and it makes me feel..._proud_. I don't want to admit it, but I am seriously hoping that he isn't a spy. Judging by what I already know about him, and talking to him now I am pretty sure he is a good guy.

Pretty sure isn't good enough.

I'm still waiting for one phone call that will make up my mind one way or another. After watching this man for six damned months I wouldn't be the first to admit that I was ready to make or break this guy. So far, he was clean. Just the average, all-American man. Who just happens to be_ gor_geous.

"Colby, I gotta tell you that I'm a little surprised by you."

He frowns the cutest frown I have ever seen, it kind of looked like one of Johnny's. My heart jumps into my throat and I force it back down. _Oh yeah, smooth Eden, trying to make a connection because you think he's hot. So professional._

"How so?"

"I just kinda expected the ultimate bachelor pad with the way Dwayne talked about you, with a few girls hanging onto your arm wearing next to nothing."

He looks at me like I've grown two heads then glances around his dismal apartment. Then, a trademark smirk pulls a corner of his mouth

(_Guh_)

up and his shoulders square, his head tilting off to the side, slightly higher. "I can tell you're impressed."

I laugh aloud at that and push some hair behind my ear. Then my cell rings, saving me from coming up with a response I worry would feel too natural. "Excuse me. Mind if I take this in the kitchen?"

He shrugs, watching me as I rise. "Go ahead."

The second location is for more than just privacy - safety is a major factor, as well. If this guy does turn out to be a bad one, giving myself a few seconds to memorize exits and objects is something you always want to be able to do. Whether you get jumped or not is beside the point. Preparation is the objective.

Once I'm in the next room I answer. "Yeah." Never identify yourself.

"How's it going?"

Cleo. Computer Geek Extraordinaire. Off the record, she can hack the Pentagon in her sleep.

"Looking good. So? What about on your end? Make or break?"

"He's a good one. D says bring him in with you."

D is short for 'the director.' No one knows his real name and no one dares to ask if they value their life. "All right."

"Hey, how sure are we that he's even gonna, you know...go for this."

"Well, if by 'we' you mean D, we're positive, but if by 'we' you mean me...let's just say I would rather get to you-know-who" (Dwayne Carter) "via other ways."

"Okay. Call before you leave and I'll get everything ready on my end. See you in x number of hours. Be safe. Kick ass."

God, I love that woman. "Don't I always?"

We hang up and I know that this very second she's sending up a chopper from some random place that _I'm _not even supposed to know about so she can monitor my vehicle the second I turn on the ignition.

I walk back to the living room, my posture straight and my face free of anything remotely related to sadness. Granger looks up at me, rising when he sees the change in my attitude. "Good phone call?"

A ghost of a smile crosses my lips and I slip my phone back into my pocket. "Get dressed."

"I am dressed."

"I don't mean sweats and a tee."

"And _why _am I changing?" He folds his arms over his chest defensively, spreading his legs wider apart.

My answer probably sounds colder than I mean it too, more threatening and kinda evil. "Because, Colby, we're going on a little field trip."

_**A/N: **_**So, if you liked it and would like to read more, press that itty bitty purple button and I shall oblige :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: _Thanks y'all for the reviews!**

**Chapter 2**

Confusion I would have expected. Fear I would have expected. Not the frustration I'm seeing now.

"Look, Jenny, I'm not that big into field trips. Kinda grew out them after eighth grade," he replied smartly but I can tell it's all just an act - the folded arm's gives it away. He's already on the defensive, probably mentally going through moves in case I attack him.

"My name isn't Jenny. Get dressed."

He pauses now and peers at me questioningly before finally asking the question I know is bugging him. "Then who are you?"

"No one really knows. Some say I'm an alien from the ex-planet Pluto, others say I'm really a Russian Mafia member, sent to destroy Ronald McDonald." I am currently very proud over how well I can fake a conspiratory whisper.

"Funny."

I grin at him and lift a shoulder in a small shrug. "Come on, just go get dressed."

Once again, he assesses me, looking at me from head to toe, then, "I was wondering why you had a gun."

I'm only mildly surprised that he noticed but figure not caring would be best. I merely make a note to myself to not underestimate him. "No harm in being prepared."

"How do you know I'm not going to jump out the window in my bedroom?"

"Because there's a very large man waiting for you at the bottom. Come on, Colby. Be a sport. I can't exactly bring you in looking like you haven't slept for five days. Go shower, change and get your butt out here."

He doesn't comment on the lengthened list of chores but scoffs, shaking his head. "Fine. Whatever." Granger leaves, down the hall and in a few minutes I hear the water running. I glance at my watch, wait until two minutes have passed and quietly walk down the hall. I find the only door that's closed and put my ear against it.

"Granger?"

"God, what now? Am I supposed to shave my legs, too?"

I hold back a giggle. People in my line of work don't giggle...well, we're not supposed... "Nah. Just checking to see if you'd bolted yet. I'd like to give Braden a heads up if I can. You know, so he can pull out his four by four and machine gun." Kneeling in front of the door I put my hand on the rug, a few inches away from the slit under the door. Warm steam is floating beneath it. He's barely in there and the rooms already filling with steam? How hot would the water have to be to do that? Too hot to be comfortable. Especially if it was a quick one meant to freshen him up.

"Haha. Can I shower in peace now?"

I stand up crossing my arms over my stomach, trying to decide if he's a flight risk or not. "Whatever. Hey you got any food around here that's still edible? I missed lunch."

"I dunno. Check for yourself."

_Oh you'd love that. I spend ten minutes going from cupboard to cupboard while you sneak out_. "Fine. You know, you could really work on your hosting skills." I leave, 'accidentally' knocking over a glass once I get in the kitchen and making a big racket. "Just a glass!" I yell, but he doesn't respond. Pulling out my phone again I dial quickly.

"Numero Uno Lookout speaking, how may I help you?"

Oh Braden. Fighting a smile I say, "Just letting you know that I think he might be making his move."

"Might? What's this I hear? Could it be..._no_! Not doubt!"

"Shut up, dude," I joke around. "Look, even if he hasn't pulled an Elvis I don't want him to think I'll be checking up on him every two seconds. If he's going to be stuck with us for the long run it's best he learns to trust me from the beginning."

He made a sound that screamed bullshit with a capital 'B' and said, "It _would _save me the trouble of chasing him."

"You need the workout anyways. I noticed you were getting a bit unkempt around the waist the other day," I tease relentlessly, knowing he won't take it seriously, especially considering he's one of the most physically capable person I know. It just tickles him pink every time a woman blatantly checks him out, or the occasional male. The man has a body to envy... Come to think of it, Colby would par up pretty nicely.

"Bah! You're just jealous I beat you in that arm wrestle."

"Beat me? Ha! I _let_ you win."

"Keep telling yourself that, sugar, if it helps you sleep at night."

I laugh at him, and notice the water is now off. Maybe I misjudged him a bit. "Uh-huh. Whatever." I hear the door open, and moment's later drawers being yanked open and shoved closed. _He's probably only wearing a towel around his waist..._ "And next time you call me 'sugar'... I'll kill you."

"Ouch. You wouldn't dare."

"I so would dare. In fact, I _do_ dare."

"I'll just have to haunt your ass."

"Pff. You'd try but we both know you would fail miserably."

"I fail at nothing."

"Except, getting a certain computer whiz to notice you."

I can imagine him perfectly, leaning against his black SUV, pursing his lips together and squinting his green eyes that contrast beautifully against his cocoa colored skin. "Touché."

"Patience, man. She'll get it someday."

"Right. You say that like I've never taken her out to dinner, or bought her roses on Valentines day, or told her how gorgeous she looked, or tried to kiss her, or tried to kiss her _again_ the next day, or bought her a heart-shaped box of chocolate or-"

"All right, all right! I get the point," I chuckle, shaking my head, trying to keep an eye out for any noise or lack thereof. "She'll probably never notice."

"Maybe she's a lesbian."

"She's not a lesbian! Just because a girl-"

"-woman." Is it just me or is it backwards as hell that a _male_ is correcting me on the use of the term 'girl'?

"-_woman_ isn't swooning over you and worshiping the ground you walk on doesn't mean she's gay."

A throat clears behind me and I swing around, fingers curling around the gun. "Damn, way to sneak up on me," I growl, releasing my grip.

"What?" Braden asks.

"Just Granger," I say into the phone.

"What? You mean he _didn't_ split on you? Must be a first."

"Shut up."

"I'm serious. Guys are scared of you, woman."

"Shut _up_!" I hang up and ignore the look I'm getting from Granger. His hair is still wet, curling a bit around his neck and face but he's actually wearing jeans

(_dear LORD_)

and a black pullover with an open neck. He didn't shave his facial hair and I silently wish I could tie him down and do it for him...among many other things that I won't go into detail with.

"Everything okay?" He stuffs his hands into his pockets and leans against the counter, a few feet away from me.

"Fine. Let's go."

"Where?"

"To the car." Duh.

He sighs and rolls his eyes. I decide that I really do not like this man any more. "And _then_?"

Really _really_ don't like him.

"I'm not telling you," I scoff. "Come on, my goon is waiting. I'm sure he has another great comeback by now and is just _dying _to tell me." I lead him to out of the kitchen by taking his arm.

"Your goon?" He gives me another strange look and shakes his head. I'm sure that by now he thinks I work for the CIA and he's suspected of treason and we're going to bring him to the sewers and torture him until he spills. If only it were that simple.

"Yep. He makes sure all my dates behave. Usually works pretty good. And if they don't..."

"And by dates you mean other people you've kidnapped?"

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm not _kidnapping _you. Just behave yourself and you'll be fine." I slap him on the back and push him out the front door.

---

Fearing my wrath Braden agreed to let me drive to the airport that isn't real, while the buzz of the helicopter that isn't connected to the Spy Apprehension Agency (which technically doesn't exist, and therefore I _don't _work for it, neither does anyone else, and Colby Granger never will either) is constantly above our heads. The tall black man - also known as that guy who's been in love with Cleo since the beginning of time - is sitting on the bench behind me, next to Granger. The silence, though I will never admit, it is driving me crazy but I can't listen to the radio without Braden breaking out and singing along with every word, syllable and sound. I'm sure he would try out for _American Idol_, if he didn't have previous engagements. Plus, someone who technically doesn't exist can't be famous. Oh, and Cleo despises reality TV with a passion so _Idol_ just wouldn't do.

I hate it that my eyes keep darting to the rear-view mirror, trying to get a glimpse at our new recruitment. Most would think that I would be able to control myself more than I am, and usually I can, but there's something about him that I just can't quite figure out.

If I don't get blown up, shot, or poisoned, I know that man will sooner be the death of me than old age. I'm not quite sure where I get that notion, but since I haven't been able to take my mind off of him since we left his apartment (five hours ago) I think it's safe to say that chances of me figuring it out are slim to none.

"Want me to drive, Eden?" Braden leans forward.

"No." I snap unintentionally and sigh. "Sorry."

He shrugs his huge shoulders and settles back down. "Don't worry about it. I'm used to you being bitchy."

"I'm not bitchy...just..."

"Having PMS?"

I blush for the first time in my life and my gaze snaps back to the mirror. His eyes are smiling. Ugh, that Colby Granger. His mouth is perfectly neutral, and so is everything else, but his _eyes_. They're..._smiling_! I clench the steering wheel and mull over how eyes _aren't_ supposed to be able to do that. It's just not right. I hate it.

"No, _Braden_. I'm not having PMS, thank you very much, but I _can_ give you a dose of teenage moodiness if you desire it. Or, I can tell Cleo that you're gay and then you'll _never_ get her to so much as look at you."

He holds up his hands in surrender but when I look away he turns to Granger and smirks proudly at him, highly amused. Somehow, finding ways to push my buttons has become a game to him. I just _know_ that this is something Granger is going to be good at. Supremely good. I dread the day he gets sworn in and D will inevitably assign him my unofficial partner because... "...As we all know, inter-gender relationships can not only be helpful for one's mental health, but they encourage a deeper means of communication due to the gap between male and female beings which means a deeper sense of trust. And, as I'm sure we have all discovered, trust is the key component to any partnership..." Blah blah BLAH!

I have heard this speech thirty-two and a half times since my first day. I'll probably hear it a few hundred more times before I die. My utter distaste must have shown because Granger was snickering, "You okay up there, Eden? You look like you've been force-fed a sack of lemons."

I snarl at the use of my name and glare at him through the mirror, which is probably a good thing, considering my glare is the one that comes closest to actually being able to kill. "Braden can you hit him for me?"

"No. Well, I _can _but I like this dude. Any guy that can stand up to you is someone I admire."

Also, another speech I have heard _way_ too many times for my sanity to remain intact much longer. I literally growled.

"Uh-oh. Watch out, Colby. When she makes that sound she's either really turned on or really pissed off."

We both snap our eyes towards him and mimic, "What?"

"Braden, if you don't shut up I'm pulling over and you're walking to the tarmac. And then you can learn to frickin' fly."

"I'm feeling some resentment towards me. Maybe I shouldn't have alluded to the fact that we've had sex before."

"Braden!" I screech..

Granger looks at him, looks at me and back at him. Braden nods solemnly. "Yep. I've tapped that."

"Uhh..."

I find myself actually feeling sorry for the guy...and then I spot something. Jealousy. Oh-ho he did _not_ just look at me like that! He is _so_ in for it. He knows me for five and a half hours and he's already staking his claim?! I don't think so, buddy, not on my lifetime and trust me, I'll out-live you. "We were undercover. It was either screw the idiot or have my kneecaps broken and then get a Columbian Necktie."

"Oh yeah? I was pretending you were Cleo. Beat that."

"I was pretending I was a dead fish and that was a horrible nightmare due to the fact that I wasn't in the water and about to get filleted and eaten by a five-year-old, and then he would choke on my bones and have to be taken to the hospital."

Personally, I thought that was pretty good. Sure beats Braden's little piece of smack.

"A dead fish?" Braden raises an eyebrow. "Woman, you were not a dead fish, I can tell you that much, and so could the people who had 'hidden' cameras and microphones in our room, and so could everyone in a five-mile radius." He turned to Granger as I planned and mentally executed my plan to perforate and murder him. "You know, if she was _faking_ when we had to...you know...shag ass, I just might pay to see the real thing."

"You're sick, Braden," I grumble, shaking my head.

"I sure do envy her boyfriend...well, if she had one," he says, completely ignoring me.

"Aren't you supposed to be in love or something?"

This time he responds, probably just so he can talk about (and I quote) the most amazing, wonderful, gorgeous woman on the (unquote) damned (quote) planet.(Unquote) "Cleo, yeah. I know, but I mean, what am I supposed to do? The woman doesn't even know I exist, unless the future of the country relies on me."

Finally, we arrive at the tarmac, stopping me from saying something very unkind to one of my closest friends. (Would have been something to the effect of "Grow some balls you dumbass and frickin tell her you're in damned love with her instead of dancing around the bush as close as you can without scratching your damn pretty face!) Yeah. Something like that.

"Is someone gonna tell me where we're going yet, or should I call someone to report me missing?"

Oh yeah. _He's_ still here. I had forgotten about him in my anger for a few seconds. I sigh. "Like I said, Granger, we're going on a field trip."

"Yep," Braden grins. "With guns, and bombs, and undercover assignments and nemesis's. All that crazy shit. It's like a playground. But for _adults_."

Granger raises an eyebrow and turns to look at me in the rear-view mirror. "Is it too late to run for my life?"

**_A/N:_** **So, reviews are love, and you know what they say: love makes the world go round! So contribute to the never-ending spinning of this dear planet and press that purple button. Christian Bale is also love...but he's married and I'm not legal yet so I'll have to rely on you guys to get the lovin' that I need, lol. Am I getting creepy yet? No? Then I haven't done my job yet ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N: _I know it took a long time for an update, but that darn RL really got in the way, so sorry for the long wait. PS - Reviews encourage me to update quicker. Hint hint. Cough cough. Nudge nudge.**

**Chapter 3**

No one knows it but I'm actually afraid to fly. Deathly afraid. I'm sitting perfectly still in the private jet, one leg crossed over the other, staring dismally at the empty seat across from me but inside my heart is pounding painfully and the adrenaline is starting to make me dizzy.

And we only took off three minutes ago.

Braden and Granger are talking amongst themselves, bursting into laughter every now and then. If I didn't know any better, I would say they looked like old friends reuniting after a few years of being separated.

My finger begins to tap against the plush armrest and Braden picks up on it immediately. "You okay back there?" he calls to me and I turn my attention to him.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

He doesn't believe me and raises his eyebrows. "Really."

"Yeah. Really. I needa take a leak." Taking off the seatbelt that I technically don't need to have on any longer, I casually walk to the far end of the plane where there's a small, but comfortable bathroom - a toilet and a sink. I shut the door behind me and plaster myself against the wall, promising myself I won't get sucked into the toilet and die. _Pull yourself together, Eden. You fly almost every week. _Running a hand down my face I regard myself in the mirror thoughtfully.

Like most women do my age (twenty-six, almost going on thirty) I find myself criticizing my face too often. I know I don't look old, in fact, I barely look twenty-three, but that doesn't stop me. I slip my fingers into my hair and push up, wondering what 'volume' means. For the tenth time this week (it's Monday) I wonder if I should get my haircut or not. Maybe some layers. But with only one even length, it's so much easier to keep my hair confined when I need to wear a wig - which is often.

Once again, I fantasize about being able to pull of Cleo's hairstyle. Or any style, period, for that matter. She's barely twenty-two, an MIT graduate at nineteen years old, and is the envy of every woman that works at the S.A.A. Her hair is slightly shorter than mine but chopped in funky layers, the top of which are white blonde, the bottom bright red and purple chunks. It's almost always yanked up in unfathomable ways with bobby pins, hair clips and ponytail holders. Flashy pieces of gravity-defying hair sticking out in every which way.

Her fashion sense is something I wish I had the guts - and age - to wear, as well. Today when she walked into work she was wearing a black tank top, camo caprice with more pockets than I could count and one long red and black striped sock, the other bright orange. Her small feet were tucked into those shoes with the wheels on the bottom so she could roll her way around the large building. Bracelets, necklaces and rings galore were dangling off of her petite body.

My thoughts run short when there's a sudden knock on the door and I jump nearly a foot in the air. "Eden? You sure you're all right?"

I sigh, fling the door open and glare at Braden, who's standing there, looking concerned. Granger's back is turned to us but I have no doubt he's listening in.

"Braden, I'm fine. I just needed to take a piss."

"Right. You know," his voice gets quieter and he leans in, "we're partners. You can tell me if something's wrong."

My shoulders drop and I smile. "I appreciate it Braden, but I am _fine_. Promise."

He scoffs and grins at me. "You know I don't believe your promises."

"Ha ha ha," I mock and he pulls me under his arm, leading us back to the seats, which really aren't far away. He shoves me into 'my' chair and goes back to sit with Granger. My eyes rest on the back of the mans head and I try to figure out what is bugging me so much about him. They are playing chess and chatting again, their voices quieter this time.

I get the nagging feeling that they're talking about me, but I tell myself that I don't care if they are or not. I don't care what he thinks of me, whether I'm hot or not, whether I'm a bitch or not. I look away quickly when Braden's eyes meet mine and Granger turns to see what's going on.

My arms fold across my stomach and I stare straight ahead, feeling his crazy beautiful eyes on me, adding me up and chopping me down.

This time, when my heart speeds up, I get the feeling that it's not because I'm in a tin can thousands of mile above the ground.

I'm very quickly beginning to despise the newbie.

---

Colby turned back to Braden but he just shrugged at him. "Is she all right?" he asked the dark man across from her in a hushed tone.

"Yeah, she's okay."

He didn't believe him, and they both knew it. Colby was aware of the fact that he didn't know Eden at all, but he was sure that had gotten a real glimpse of her when they got to the topic of her son back at his apartment. Something had seemed different then, more genuine and vulnerable. For a moment he had forgotten his nightmares and the lack of sleep he'd had and just wanted to let her cry. But that feeling ended pretty quickly when she came back from her phone call and all he saw in her eyes was a chill.

He had almost jumped out of the window in the bathroom, despite the supposed goon that was waiting for him at the bottom but when she came to check on him he had decided against it. He promised himself it wasn't because she was gorgeous and mysterious. He was just curious about what she wanted with him and what this 'field trip' was all about.

Those big baby blues that he just _knew_ were deeper than the ground between the USA and China weren't why he stayed after all. That dirty blonde hair that hung around her small shoulders didn't matter, even if his hands were itchy to run through it just to see if it was really as soft as it looked. And god, those cheekbones begged to be touched, those lips to be kissed and her smooth, tanned skin to be stroked...

And he had better stop thinking like that if he wanted to last the flight. He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in the seat, turning his attention back to the chess game at hand. After a quick glance over he made his move.

Braden let out a rush of air and shook his head. "Dammit," he breathed. "You could play this game with your eyes closed couldn't you?"

Colby grinned, crookedly. "Prob'ly. Your move."

"Yeah, yeah," he waved him away and stared intently at the board.

"So...you and Eden, huh?"

He smirked and looked up. "Like she said, we were undercover. Didn't have a choice. Why? You jealous or something?"

Colby scoffed and leaned back. "No."

"Uh-huh. Right. But dude, if you're going to go for her, you gotta be stubborn. And nice to Cleo."

He frowned at the unwanted and unneeded advice. "I'm not jealous," he insisted.

"Look, dude. Eden has a lot of protective friends, and I'm one of them. Chances are you won't get within ten yards of her, but if you do crack down that wall, you better be ready for it. She can be...difficult and sometimes I just wonna shake her...but if I did I'd be dead before I hit the ground."

"What's your point, man?" Colby was starting to get impatient and wanted to know where this was going. Braden made his move and motioned for him to make his.

"My point is, man, she's not easy to love, never will be. She has a mind of her own and nothing is ever gonna change that, and trying to get her into bed will only backfire on you. Eden is one woman that's gotta make the first move, but you sure as hell better be watching carefully, 'cause it will be the smallest thing you've ever seen."

He moved his King over. "What makes you think I want to get her into bed? I don't even know her."

"Yeah, but you will soon. In our line of work, you can go into an operation complete strangers and come out feeling like you've known someone your entire life. There's a lot of things to play with at work, but Eden isn't one of them. Probably why she chose that name. Checkmate."

"What is this, the CIA?"

Braden laughed and shook his head, "Nah. We're the H.T.S.R."

"The what?"

"Hypocritical Thumb-Sucker Refuge."

"Somehow, I get the feeling that's an unofficial name."

"We don't have an officially official name. But if I tell you who we are, there's no going back, Colby. You know who we are, you're with us."

He remained still, holding his own under Braden's suddenly intense stare. "And what happens when we get where we're going and I don't want to join whatever you are?"

"We get you piss drunk, drug you, and drop you off at your apartment with a nasty hangover and some messed up memories of something you know couldn't have happened. And then we watch you for the rest of your life. Keep tabs on who you talk to, where you go for breakfast, who else goes there, what hotels you stay at, your freakin water bill, too. You'll probably think you're going crazy, paranoid. And if you ever have kids, we watch them just as closely as we watch you."

That didn't sound that great to Colby. "And if I stick with you guys?"

"We know about your training, your CID assignments in Afghan, everything. We know you can't be that scared of dying, and you're willing to fight for your country. You come from five generations of duty, honor and following orders; when you know what we do, you'll realize this is something that you can be proud of being a part of."

He looked sharply at the man across from him.

"Yes, Colby, we looked into you that much. After a day or two or working with us, you'll wonder why you're so surprised."

"This sounds more like a thread and less like a job description every second."

"We're not in the business of threatening innocent people. Just recruiting them," he added cheerfully.

"How long do I have to think about it? It's kind of a lot to chew."

"Can't tell you. But I _can_ say this - I think we both know what decision you're going to make and the sooner you make it the sooner we can get started."

"On what? Right, can't tell me."

He grinned and laughed, "You catch on quick, my friend. So, whaddya say? We have dental..." he offered, holding his hands out in front of him like a salesman.

Making a quick move of the chessboard he grinned. "I say checkmate and that's the game."

"Damn." His hands dropped heavily on the table and he saw all Colby's pieces still on the board, save for three. "I hate this game."

"If I agree to do this, what are the chances of me getting shot at within the first month?"

"Shot _at_? About a hundred percent."

"And shot?"

"That depends on you and whoever you're with."

"Yeah, I figured," he let out a long breath, took a quick glance behind him at Eden, whose finger was tapping lightly on her opposite arm.

"No. Don't even think about it. You say yes because you want to, not because of her."

He turned back to Braden and nodded. "Okay."

"Is that an 'okay, I won't do it for a woman but I still needa think even though I know what I'm going to say I'm just to damned stubborn to say it already,' or an 'okay, let's get this shit started'?"

"Let's get this shit started."


	4. Chapter 4

**_AN: _Taking a hint from the lack of reviews, I've decided that for those of you who have reviewed this story before and would like to recieve the rest of the fic, email me or let me know in a review and I'll send the updates to you. I'll either do it by chapter, or I'll just give you the entire story, since I'm busy with school and work. Unless there's like, a miracle and more people actually start liking this fic and show it, that's the way it's going to be. If you haven't reviewed before but want the rest of the story, you'll just have to hope that more people have now been motivated to review, too. Maybe this is my own fault for deleting all my other Colby fics in a fit of rage. Bad karma and what not.**

**Chapter 4**

I'll admit it - I might be a bit impressed. Granger has been going through the various training stages pretty quickly, quicker than most do. He's a decent shot, and he can adapt at a moderate pace, I suppose.

"Damn, he's good."

I glare at Cleo, who totally ambushes my train of thought. "I guess."

"Oh, come on Eden," she puts a decorated hand on a hip and points at the man on the other side of the mirror, about a floor below us. The training room is a long, wide and high empty space, with tons of equipment pushed off to the sides. Obstacle courses can be set up in less than an hour, during which the trainee spends time doing pushups, sit ups, bench presses, whatever the trainer tells him to do. "Look at him! He's as good as you!"

My neck twitches, a sure sign that I won't hesitate to throttle the next person to irritate me. A string of fast gunfire explodes and seven dummies hit the ground, while Granger finishes the obstacle course, chest rising and falling heavily. "He's too confident."

Cleo checked her watch. "Considering he just beat your best time...I'd say that's warranted."

"What?" My head snaps in her direction. If she wasn't so clueless, I might have hit her.

"By two point three seconds. See?" She shows me the time and my twitch speeds up. "Just imagine, by the end of the week he'll be one of the best."

"He still needs field experience. It's completely different in the real world," I try to reason.

She shrugs and turns back to watch him help put the equipment back away. "Well, if he's half as good as you are, as a team, you two will be a force to be reckoned with."

Ignore the compliment. Ignore it. "Braden's my partner."

"Not for long. I think he's getting paired up with Nell, since Travis is going under deep cover next week."

Travis had been assigned Nell's partner almost instantly, thanks to D's good instincts. They had been a great team from the start, and they had also been great friends, always been seen cracking jokes on each other and others, or having quiet conversations in the corner. I almost envied their connection they had with each other. I also respected it.

"Nell and Braden? Great. By the end of their first shift they're going to be giggling over inside jokes and sharing dirty secrets in the break room."

"Eden."

I turn around at the sound of my voice behind me. One of the trainers, Jason, is standing there, sweaty. "You're up."

Oh yeah. Did I mention? I'm the one who gets to test his one on one combat skills. "I'll be right there. Give him a few minutes to breathe." He raises his eyebrow at me. "When I kick his ass, I don't want him to have an excuse."

"You got it." He leaves and I can feel Cleo's eyes on me. When I look back at her, she's smirking.

"What?"

"You like him."

"Jason?"

"Colby."

"No, I don't." How is it that she can come up with that after seeing me watch the man for thirty minutes, but when a man has been in love with her for almost two years she has no frickin clue? Besides, I don't like facial hair. _If only I was really that superficial._

"Oh. _Right_."

"When did everyone suddenly become my match maker? No, don't answer that. I'm going to go kick that arrogant ass until he's fricking crying for his mommy."

---

"So, Granger, enjoying your training?" We're circling each other on the blue mat, neither of us so much as blinking. As soon as the bell goes, it's time to attack.

"It's a bit easy, but I'm sure that's not your fault," he smiles all too sweetly at me.

"Well, I didn't want to embarrass you on the first day of your training."

"Are you always this funny?"

The bell rings. In less than a second I charge him, tackling him to the ground. We're rolling around, limbs entangled and flying, both trying to get a hold on our opponent. The sound of low thuds and thwacks echo in the large room, followed by grunts of frustration and a bit of pain. I half flip, half roll over his head and wrap my legs around his knees, and get him in a headlock. If

this were a real fight, I could have snapped his neck and broken both his legs by now, and he knows it, but still, for some incomprehensible reason I can't quite release him.

"Okay, okay. I get it, you win."

A rush of warmth pools in the pit of my stomach and for a split second I freeze, then let him go as if he stung me. Granger rolls over and jumps to his feet. He holds out a hand to help me up. I push _myself_ up. He takes his hand back and smirks as if _he_ just won the round.

"I gotta say," he says as we begin to circle again, "I'm a bit surprised by you, Eden."

"Well, newbie, you shouldn't-" the bell cuts me off and a flurry of fists and legs fly between us. This time, he puts up a pretty good fight, and I'll admit that I'm really impressed - to myself anyways. It takes me almost a minute to take him down this time. I hold out a hand to help him up. He looks at it for a few seconds, then smiles and takes it...and yanks me down towards him. Relying on experience and training I slap my other hand on his shoulder, and push off the ground with my foot. I fly over him, twisting in the air to prevent my shoulder getting torn.

Not missing a beat, he rolls on his back until he's facing me and kicks a leg out, releasing my hand. I jump over his ankle and kick his chin, slightly harder than needed. But hey, criminals won't be so considerate. By this time, a cheering crowd is forming along the perimeter of the gym. Jason was probably kind enough to spread the word that "Eden's going to kick another newbie's ass!"

Granger gets pushed back by the force, but in one fluid movement he snaps up to his feet, fists up to protect his face from getting ambushed again. I grin at him and his hand flies to my face, drawing blood on my cheek.

I unleash a set of kicks and punches and he blocks every one of them. When he advances, my reflexes take over, and I let them, knowing they'll serve me well. While more complicated moves are making us both work, I block out all other noises, including the voices of my friends and co-workers, cheering me on. Out of nowhere, I get flipped over, landing on my stomach and when I see Granger move in out of the corner of my eye, I suck in a quick breath, transfer all my body weight onto my hands and thrust my feet into his abdomen. What was supposed to knock him off his feet didn't work in the least. His wrists clamped over my ankles tightly and twisted them over, so I was now staring at the ceiling.

This is where I thank my trainer for making me run for an hour, twice a day if I at all can. I flex my muscles, turn my legs into firm poles and snap them apart, pulling his arms with them.

Taking him off guard was the only reason that worked, because his grip loosens, and standing on my hands again, just at a more awkward position, my feet fly to either side of his head and clap angrily against him.

Dropping onto my back, my leg shoots out and takes his feet from under him and he lands with a thud, probably still seeing stars from getting clamped between my shoes. I curl my fingers around his wrist, flip him onto his stomach and twist his arm so he can't even move without inflicting pain, and possibly dislocating his shoulder. My knees are on either side of his hips, and I'm already dreading the rumors that Braden is going to start. I only wish that my mind wasn't instantly in the same place as his usually is.

But dirty thoughts or not, I still win.

We're both breathing heavily when I lean over to talk into his ear over the loud cheers that just don't stop. "You're not going to attack me if I let you go?"

"No," he manages between long gasps of breath. "Promise."

"I'm trusting you." I release him and he rolls over, still confined to the space between my legs. I think it would be safe to say that was the fastest I had ever gotten off an opponent. His chest is rising and falling quickly and he's still lying there, staring at me as if he was reading my mind. I was more comfortable in seventh grade when I got my first period in the middle of a class than I was at that moment.

I stick out a hand, holding his gaze with what I know looks like confidence. He takes it and let's me help him up, but doesn't let me take my hand back. I refuse to back down though. "Good job, kiddo," I say.

Stop the presses! It is officially possible to see Antarctica through someone's eyes! But instead of dropping my hand like a piece of hot coal, like most men would, he pulls me closer with a light jerk. "You too, Eden. You're a helluva fighter."

The way he's staring at me, like there's not a crowd still laughing, hooting and clapping around us, makes me want to disappear. There's a dangerous mixture of anger, frustration and lust that won't let my eyes move away from his. He could have probably thrown me down and taken me right there and I wouldn't have been that surprised.

When suddenly Braden is slapping Granger on the shoulder and singing him praises he gives me back my hand. And yes, I mean "gives me back," because if he wanted to take my hand to Italy that day, he probably would've been able to.

But thankfully, after years of acting casual in otherwise extremely uncomfortable and dangerous situations, playing it cool isn't that terribly hard.

"See ya around," I say casually to him, and I turn and stroll away, wiggling my fingers by my side.

---

I know there's a reason we have separate change rooms and showers for the men and women, but I never really cared - I had _always_ just used the co-ed ones. I've had to pretend to be married to over half the male field agents and have had to at _least _make out with them on more than one occasion so that day after The Fight I didn't think twice about going into the same shower as I always do.

Enter Colby Granger.

As he walks into the showers, I can hear him calling one last thing to someone (would have thought Braden, but he's made quite a few friends already, after The Fight) before the metal door shuts, chuckling to himself then taking the stall next to mine.

I check the door on mine, just to make sure it's locked. I had already turned my shower off so I can hear him kick off his shoes then a few moments of clothing rustling against his skin.

_Oh god, he's stripping three feet away from me_.

I don't move a single muscle until the water in his stall is on. Being as quiet as I can - which is pretty damned quiet - I grab the pile of my sweaty clothes (working out for three hours will do that) and my bag with my shampoo and such and slowly exit.

I'm almost home free before he laughs, seemingly at himself. "I know you're in here, Eden."

I swallow. Such a waste of sneakiness.

"I saw you come in before."

"And?" Stay cool, stay calm.

"Nothin'," he replies nonchalantly.

I cannot for the life of me get the picture of an all too naked Colby Granger under the shower out of my head, all skin and rippling muscles with water droplets running down his body in a shameless excursion.

"Just thought I'd save you from the trouble of being sneaky."

"I wasn't trying to sneak out," I snap back defensively but kick myself for being so transparent.

"Okay. Never mind, then."

I despise him for being so laid back. He's here for less than twenty-four hours and he already thinks he owns the damn place. For a moment, I'm just standing there, wondering if I'm supposed to say something or wait for him to speak. I simply walk out instead, not noticing the clothing item I dropped on the floor.

---

I won't let him kick me out of the co-ed showers. I won't I won't I won't I won't. And I will friggin' enjoy having him _not_ kick me out of the co-ed showers. I'll never be able to walk into the room without having that godawful memory come back to taunt me, but I was here first, therefore, I get dibs.

And to prove that I won't get kicked out I set up temporary shop in that specific room after I saw Granger leave it to go to a meeting or something. I'm currently sitting on the counter, one foot stuck in a sink filled with warm water, a razor in my hand, shaving cream covering my legs. I've got my mp3 player hooked up to portable speakers, which are now blaring Bob Segar's_ Old Time Rock n' Roll_. On repeat.

Biting my bottom lip, I drag the blade along my calve when I hear the door open and Cleo walks in, her open lap top balancing in one hand in front of her, tapping at the keyboard with the other. "Hey Eden," she mumbles to me and hops onto the counter, sitting on the other side of the sink. "Congrats on your victory today."

"Thanks," I grin proudly, turning the volume down. "So, any news on Nell? Her and Braden the next 'it' team?" I do my best to keep my resentment out of my voice. I know my feelings are irrational, since we'll still work together often, but when your _partners_, it's a big deal. Your partner is the one you go to when you're feeling like shit, or need to dump emotional baggage somewhere. They never let each other down. Ever. And by not being Braden's partner, I'm doing exactly that - I'm letting him down.

"Nah, that'd be you and Colby."

I roll me eyes and sigh. "So how many rumors are going around already?"

Cleo looked up from the screen and blinked. "Rumors? _Here_? What evil is this I'm hearing?" After a short moment of silence we burst into laughter that echoes loudly in the dreary room and I accidentally knock my shaving cream bottle into the sink. We get drizzled by droplets of water and sudsy cream, I let out a short scream but Cleo just tries to protect her dear and precious computer. I lean back against the wall and sit there, shoulders shaking and eyes starting to tear up. Neither of us heard the two men walk in, until Braden sauntered over and hoisted himself up next to Cleo.

"How's my favorite woman?"

"Who?" she asked, hopelessly clueless.

"Never mind."

"No really, who..."

They continue their mindless banter but my eyes are locked onto the other man's. Granger stood there, hands in his jean pockets, looking casual and comfortable, as if this had happened everyday of his life. There was the slightest hint of a smile on the mans newly clean-shaven face.

And this is where I swear to god I die and go to Gutter Heaven.

I have a strange fetish with hands and jaws and now that I can finally see his face, I know that I am in serious trouble. He lifts his chin in a greeting and I force myself not to look away. I wave

my hand that's holding the razor and continue to shave, noticing that Cleo is back to staring at her computer and Braden's head is slightly tilted to the side, staring at her contemplatively.

After a few seconds of silence she jumps up, puts the laptop on the counter, and jumps up shouting, "YES!" She screeches for a good five seconds, dancing from foot to foot. "I totally hacked it!" She snatches her computer and runs out of the room.

"Wait!" Braden calls, running after her like a puppy, "Hacked what?"

"I'm not telling you..."

There voices fade away quickly, leaving me and Granger alone. Again. "What's up?" he asks, trying to make this less awkward.

"Shaving my legs," I lift the razor.

"Ah," his hand automatically lifts to rub his jaw. When he notices what he's doing he shrugs sheepishly and drops it.

"I dig the new look," I attempt to converse.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, it's...clean." Man, I suck at socializing, especially with people I hate.

He smirks at me and takes a few steps closer. He leans against the counter, crossing one leg over the other and turns his head to look at me. "You were really good today."

"I know." It amazes me how effortless it is to act conceited but I get the annoying feeling that he isn't buying it.

"I heard we're going to be partners."

"We won't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I all ready have a partner. I don't need another one." I'm very quickly getting angry, and it's only a matter of time before I snap. "Braden's my partner. Not you."

"Uh-huh. You know," he pushes himself off and pivots to face me, now inches away from me, "would it kill you to be nice? Just for a few minutes?"

"I'd rather not take that risk. You see I have this appointment next week to get my nails done and I would hate to miss it."

He doesn't say anything, just stares at me in a way I'm already expecting. He breathes a short, humorless laugh. "Right. Oh, and uh," he pulls something, black and lacy out of the pocket in his

jacket, "you dropped this before when you were running away from me." He dangles my bra in front of my face, then drops it on my lap. "D wants to see us upstairs in his office."

"I'm shaving."

"Now." He turns and ambles away.


End file.
